


The Firm

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando has always been told he would succeed in life. But then he gets hired by one of the most demanding bosses in the business. Worse, he starts to fall for him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This could be messy, but you don't seem to mind

Fernando Torres was terribly unprepared for this job interview.

He had a crisp print-out of his resumé, he had brushed up on his college notes, and he had researched the entire corporate profile of CFC, one of the leading financial service firms in the country. He was one of the top students of his class, he graduated from a reputable university, and he came from a family of bankers and managers.

This should have been a cinch.

However, when Fernando stepped foot in CFC One, he suddenly felt overwhelmed. The vaulted ceilings, the gleaming floors, even the zipping pace of the elevators and escalators as if everyone was in a mad rush to get somewhere important.

He was out of his depth, he realised.

“So, why did you apply for this job?”

Fernando had practised for this question. He knew this by heart.

One factor he didn’t consider, though, when he memorised the answer last night, was that Andre Villas-Boas, the CFC chief executive officer, would be conducting the interview himself.

“A fresh graduate with this kind of record would have been snapped up by any bank or blue-chip company,” Andre remarked, his eyes skimming over Fernando’s files.

Fernando took a deep breath and tried his best to speak in a clear, calm, controlled tone. “Most graduates who want to enter this industry enter through the typical routes: corporate finance, audit or marketing. I plan to try any of those in the future too.”

His hands were so clammy. He clasped them together and kept them on his lap. “But this is a great opportunity that doesn’t come around often. As your executive assistant, I’ll be able to handle all these fields. More importantly, I’ll get to study the decision-making and strategizing process that goes on at the very top. That’s not something you can get in any other job.”

His last few words had a little wobble to them, and they echoed awkwardly in the spacious conference room.

Andre studied the papers in front of him again, and then he glanced up at Fernando, as if to size him up.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”

Fernando felt his paralysing anxiety slowly melting away. Andre closed the folder and made a few notes at the top.

“You’ve got the job.”

Fernando wanted to collapse against the chair and fall into a heap on the floor. He settled for a curt nod instead. “Thank you, sir.”

They both stood up and shook hands. Andre had a strong, firm handshake. Fernando suddenly felt insecure about his sweaty palms and limp fingers.

“Just take this up with HR,” Andre instructed as he cleared his things. “I’ll see you soon.”

*

Fernando was an hour too early for work on his first day. The lights were still out in the executive wing. He padded carefully into the sprawling office he would share with Andre, heart thumping loudly in his chest. The thick, deep blue carpet set off the dark wood of the tables. Paintings punctuated the plain, cream walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the corner office offered spectacular views of the city.

He walked over to the bookshelves, crammed with thick books. The top tier held all the accolades – Fernando knew all of them by heart. Best Finance Director of 2009, 2010 and 2011, given by The Economist; the Recognition of Excellence for 2010 and 2011, given by the International Bankers’ Association; even Personality of the Year 2011, given by the Times.

To say Fernando idolised Andre would be a tad exaggerated. He just admired him very, very much.

Fernando headed to his modest desk and placed his notebook and pens on the table so it wouldn’t look so bare. He was just about to sit down when he heard the door swing open. 

Andre breezed in – there was no term more appropriate. He did a double-take when he saw Fernando. “You’re the new assistant, right?”

Fernando’s bright-eyed optimism was dashed slightly. For some reason, he was expecting a sunnier welcome. “Yes, sir.”

“No one’s usually here as early as me,” Andre said as he continued on his way. Fernando approached him to help him with his things – he was saddled down by a briefcase, a laptop bag and three heavy folios.

Andre did another double-take. He eyed Fernando from head to toe.

Fernando suddenly felt self-conscious. He was in dark blue shirt, a grey patterned tie and a slim-cut suit. All the things he’d seen Andre wear before – all tailored, all muted, all put-together. Right after their interview, he had thrown out his ballooning slacks and chequered polos.

“You clean up well,” Andre said.

Fernando blushed, the heat creeping over his cheeks, down his neck and to the tip of his ears. “Thank you, sir.”

*

Fernando, like most kids of his pedigree, was always told he would make it. He was the one, and he was one-of-a-kind. He believed them.

Unfortunately, now he was realising that they were wrong.

“Fernando, can you look up our net interest margins over the last 10 years?” Andre called out.

Fernando jumped up so suddenly, his thighs banged against his desk. He scrambled to Andre, “Sorry?”

Andre’s forehead furrowed. He looked up from his computer, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself. “Please look up our NIMs for the last 10 years.”

Fernando blinked. “NIMs,” he said, scribbling the acronym on his notebook. “Right.”

“Net interest margins?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Fernando said, writing down the exact term. He chewed the end of his pen, “When do you need this?”

Andre’s forehead creased even deeper. “Now?”

“Oh!” Fernando said. “Okay, just give me a couple of minutes.”

In the end, it took Fernando an hour to find the data and compile it in a graph. He notified Andre once he emailed it. He only got a deep sigh in response.

Fernando was floundering, and he hated this strange, absurd feeling of incompetence.

It got worse later on in the day. Andre came back from his meeting and rapped his knuckles on Fernando’s desk to catch his attention. “Did you get back to Frank about the new project deadlines?”

Fernando’s blood ran cold. Frank… who was Frank? He vaguely remembered Andre mention him this morning. He flipped the pages of his notebook frantically, trying to remember where he wrote that down.

There was that sigh again. “It’s okay. I’ll email him myself.”

Fernando’s throat was dry and scratchy. “It slipped my mind. I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Andre just nodded. Clearly, he believed that if there was nothing good to say, it was best to say nothing at all.

Fernando excused himself and went to the restrooms. He splashed his face with cold water, but he still felt queasy. He took a second to stare at himself in the mirror, droplets trickling down his cheeks and wetting his shirt. “You are so out of your depth,” he muttered.

He worked overtime that night, just to shake off the guilt and worse, the helplessness. As soon as Andre left, he took out the books from the shelves to research. He read the earlier reports that Andre penned so he could get an idea of how his boss thought. He even got out the company directory so he could familiarise himself with the names, faces and contact persons of the key officials.

He didn’t get home until 1 AM, and before he went to sleep, he read a couple more chapters of his books. He was knackered by the time he crawled to bed, but he felt much more at ease with himself.

The next morning, he dozed through his alarm. By the time he woke up, it was already half past nine, and Fernando practically leapt out of bed. Everything was slower that day – the traffic, the trains, the lift.

It was nearly 11 AM when he shuffled into the office. Andre didn’t speak. Fernando wished he would – he wished he would shout, give a sermon, talk some sense into his assistant. But Andre just typed away. He didn’t make an obvious remark that Fernando was late, or lecture him on the value of punctuality, or remind him that he only had 15 more minutes until their next appointment.

Fernando sat quietly through that meeting, head bowed and hunched over his notes. He met the company’s directors for the first time, and he was bombarded with more things that he didn’t understand. He didn’t even come across these issues in his research last night.

He was down and defeated. And he thought there was no way things could get worse for him – until Andre approached his desk before the day ended. He had a strange look on his face. It wasn’t so much concern as it was trepidation.

“You have to shape up,” Andre said. Short, stern and steely.

It felt like Fernando’s heart dropped to his feet. “Yes, sir,” he meant to say, but he wasn’t sure if he ever got the words out.

*

Fernando didn’t have time to keep track of time anymore. It must have been months, because his friends tell him they never see him, and the CFC staff ask him why he’s on overtime all the time. Even his parents – workaholics themselves – worried that he wasn’t getting enough rest.

“How do you do it?” everyone asked. More specifically, how did he run on five hours of sleep, six days of work a week for a boss as admired as he is feared?

Affirmation. That was the answer. It was addicting.

The first time was when they finished a string of five consecutive meetings, and they all went without a hitch. Fernando’s briefers were concise, complete and neatly labelled in colour-coded folders. Andre just had to switch files in the short walk from one conference room to another.

“That was good,” Andre said when he returned the briefers to Fernando afterwards. “Let’s have these from now on.”

Fernando couldn’t even stop himself from grinning if he wanted. “No problem.”

“By the way, I received the deck you sent this morning. You mentioned a tax regulation passed last week?”

“Yes, sir. I compiled a backgrounder, in case you needed one. I just emailed it to you.” Fernando answered promptly.

Andre nodded, turned to walk back to his desk, stopped halfway and glanced back at Fernando. The assistant smiled at him tentatively.

“Good job,” Andre nodded.

*

The moment Fernando stopped worrying about knowing everything, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. The truth was, he couldn’t learn it all.

Actually, if there was only one thing he learned, it was that if you didn’t know the answer, it was best to admit it rather than attempt to dupe someone like Andre who has been in the industry for years.

“Are you sure about these revenue figures?” Andre bent over his desk so they could go over the competitive report they were drafting. “I could have sworn that HSBC breached the trillion-dollar mark last year.”

Fernando checked the graph. “I just lifted the numbers from our earlier reports. I can cross-check them with the HSBC annual report if you want"

“Yes, please do,” Andre said, making a note on the paper. “I’m probably just being anal, but it’s better to be sure.”

Surprisingly, this prompted Andre to be more open too.

“Fernando, I’m telling you already, I understood nothing from the agenda they sent. I hate meetings with the operations department,” Andre whispered as they waited for the lifts.

Fernando admitted, “I could barely read through the manuals too.”

“We will just nod and pretend to take a lot of notes, yeah?” Andre said with a smirk.

Fernando grinned – that was the first time Andre had referred to them as a “we.”

Sometimes, Andre even took the bullet for him.

“Fernando, this project brief was sent as early as February (see email attached). It was even followed-up two times (see emails attached) when your office didn’t respond. I don’t understand why it would take you more than a month to go through a simple report. Our project is far behind our timeline now.”

Fernando was panicking as he read through the strongly-worded, liberally-capitalized email sent by Alex Ferguson, the head of the sales department. A wave of nausea hit him – he had completely forgotten this project brief. He had flagged this in his inbox and written it down on his planner and still he completely forgot about it.

Worse, Andre was cc-ed in the message.

Fernando looked up. Andre was busy working on his laptop. His eyes were narrowed and his typing was heavy-handed – a sure sign that his boss was in a bad mood. Maybe now wasn’t a good time to tell him about Ferguson’s email. Or maybe he’s already seen the email and that was why he was in a bad mood.

Fernando buried his face in his hand and tried not to whimper. Just when he was in a great streak. He went back to the email again, and to his surprise, a new reply had popped up.

“Alex, it has taken us longer than expected to review your project brief. The rationale is poor, and the costing is unreasonable. We will try to complete our comments within the day so you can act on them immediately. Our apologies, but the delays in this project, unfortunately, are deserved.”

Fernando’s eyes widened and his jaw practically fell to the floor. Andre laughed when he saw the expression of his assistant. “What, should I have let Alex get one up on us?”

“The rationale is poor, and the costing is unreasonable?” Fernando exclaimed in disbelief as he read Andre’s email out loud.

Andre shrugged. “Both harsh, but both true.” He handed Fernando a copy of the project brief. His comments were already marked in red. “Put in your own comments and get back to them today. Don’t forget it this time!”

*

They held a performance review as Fernando reached one year in the company, and Andre shared that no executive assistant has lasted this long under him.

“I’m horrid, you see. Demanding. Quick to criticise but slow to praise,” Andre said with a guilty smile. He’s been smiling more often nowadays.

Fernando personally agreed with the assessment and for a brief moment, he wondered how he lasted this long.

Andre handed him his evaluation sheet. He got top marks in most categories, and at the bottom of the paper, he wrote that Fernando had been “superb” so far.

“Do you have any questions?”

Fernando could barely form a complete thought. “No, no, thank you,” he babbled. He grinned like an idiot as he signed his evaluation sheet.

This was why he’s stayed in this horrible job for so long. He was competitive, and he liked knowing he could do what most people couldn’t.

“Congratulations,” Andre said, and he extended his hand to Fernando. Fernando took it and shook it firmly.

He treated his parents to dinner in a fancy restaurant that night. Afterwards, he called all his friends – everyone who complained that they never saw him anymore – and took them out for drinks. He drank all the shots they gave him, danced on the floor like a graceless loon and made out with a couple of strangers in the club. He threw up all over his suit and crawled home at 4 in the morning.

Bright and early the next day – fuelled by caffeine and paracetamol – he was in the office even before Andre arrived.

“Wow,” Andre whistled as he came in. “I was half-expecting you to call in sick today.”

Fernando smiled although it felt much more like a grimace. “Sick leaves are for the weak.”

“You’re turning into me.” Andre warned. “Although that may not necessarily be a bad thing.”


	2. We could cross the line

Their relationship had quickly turned into one of dependence. They needed each other. It exhilarated Fernando, and it terrified him as well, knowing how tightly their lives were intertwined.

Everything Fernando knew, he learned from Andre. He brought him to all his meetings, from the top-level elections to the store visits, the annual conferences and the day-to-day operations. He introduced him to everyone he knew, and he instructed them to work with his assistant. “I know the broad objectives, but if you want to discuss the specific details of the projects, you can take it up with Fernando,” Andre would always say.

Meanwhile, Fernando… basically, he made sure that Andre’s life ran smoothly as possible.

“Andre,” Fernando began. His boss had told him to stop calling him “sir.” Fernando still found it strange, though, since it felt inappropriate to talk to Andre on a first-name basis. Only other executives called him “Andre,” while everyone else used “AVB.” Fernando felt that “sir” was handy enough and proper enough for someone of his rank. But, Andre wouldn’t have any of it – he huffed whenever Fernando called him “sir” and always said it made him feel old and tired.

“It’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” he reminded.

Andre stopped typing on his Blackberry and groaned loudly. “I completely forgot about that. I don’t even have a present yet.”

“We have an hour before the next meeting,” Fernando offered. They were in the company car, being driven from their lunch with a foreign investor. “We can stop by the high street before returning to the office.”

“Brilliant,” Andre said. He caught himself and smiled apologetically at Fernando, “Thanks for reminding me. And I’m sorry. This isn’t supposed to be part of your job.”

Fernando blushed. “It’s not a big deal. As the official handler of your iPad, iPhone, Blackberry _and_ desk planner, it’s inevitable that I see your personal appointments anyway.”

“Besides, I haven’t gone so far as to remind you of your football team’s fixture list,” he added.

Andre laughed. “Now, I should include that in your job description.”

“Well, then, there’s an FA Cup tie this Saturday, 3 PM.”

They laughed. Fernando leaned back against the smooth leather interior of the car.

“I wonder what I should get my father,” Andre mused beside him.

“What does he like?”

“He loves wine. He loves collecting wine and tasting wine and reviewing wine. He keeps too many bottles, more than our entire family could drink in this lifetime,” Andre said.

He shifted in his seat so he could face Fernando. Fernando mimicked his position. “Growing up, he would serve wine during our Sunday dinners. Imagine being 10 years old and sipping red wine one week and white wine another. It was horrible…” he began recounting. Fernando listened avidly.

*

Fernando was packing up for the day when Andre stormed into the room. He looked distressed, and Fernando suddenly felt like he shouldn’t be here to witness this. That was the downside of sharing an office. They had no time or space to themselves.

“Are you alright?” Somebody had to ask the obvious question.

Andre collapsed in his chair and shut his eyes. “It’s just Roman.”

Roman was the chairman of CFC One. His family has long held the largest stake in the company. Like many heirs, Roman had a great sense of entitlement coupled with little experience in the industry. In general, he was hands-off, but once in a while he stepped in to make their lives miserable – Andre’s most of all.

“There’s a business in Russia he wants to acquire,” Andre explained. “The type that goes through a boom one year and then a bust the year after. If we buy it now, we’re going to be right in time for the bust.”

“And he doesn’t want to listen to you.”

Andre threw his hands up in the air. “I’m making an assessment report tonight. It’s a last-ditch effort.”

“Tonight? It’s already 7 PM.”

“Roman is flying out tomorrow afternoon, and I want to present it to him in person.”

Fernando checked his watch. “Do you want me to stay? I can help you.”

Andre smiled tiredly. “No, you should head home. Besides, it will probably be therapeutic for me to work on it alone.”

He opened his laptop and stared at the screen dully as the programs began to load. Through the harsh light of the computer screen, the fine lines on Andre’s face were painfully obvious.

“Are you sure?” Fernando tried again. “We can get in the office early tomorrow morning. You need rest.”

“I’ll be fine, Fernando. Good night.” Andre said in The CEO tone, and that meant there was no questioning it.

Fernando had a heavy heart as he headed for the lifts. Maybe it was the proximity, but seeing Andre troubled made him feel troubled too, even if the issue had nothing to do with him. And Fernando wasn’t just troubled, he was irritated too. He didn’t understand why Roman wouldn’t trust Andre when he has steered CFC so successfully over the years. He was strong, intelligent and sincere. Fernando worked with him every day and he saw just how brilliant he was.

Fernando returned to the office and took a detour to the pantry. He wanted to do something nice for Andre. He originally planned to get him his usual coffee from the vending machine, but before he knew it, he was putting in some water in the coffeemaker, pouring their fancy-Guatemala-something-or-the-other coffee grounds into the paper filter, and then patiently waiting for it to brew.

After a few minutes, the sharp aroma of coffee filled the pantry. Fernando was just taking out the coffee pot when Andre walked in.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Andre hovered behind Fernando to see what he was doing.

Fernando bit back a smile and didn’t answer, concentrating on pouring the coffee into a mug.

“That smells amazing,” Andre said with a slight whimper.

Fernando turned around, taking care not to spill the piping-hot brew. “For you.”

Andre’s face was already brighter and calmer than when Fernando had left him a while ago. “Thank you,” he said with a soft smile.

Fernando suddenly felt self-conscious. And stupid. Because honestly, what the hell was he thinking? He scurried around the pantry to clean up, talking incessantly in an effort to diffuse the tension. “The rest is in the pot, but you really shouldn’t have any more than that cup. All this caffeine is bad for you.”

He busied himself – threw away the used grounds, wiped down the counter top, washed his hands – and all that time, he could sense Andre standing still behind him.

Fernando looked over his shoulder tentatively. Andre smiled at him again. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Fernando blushed. It was just a cup of coffee, right? “You’re welcome.”

*

“You spend too much time on your mobile.”

Fernando froze. He put down his phone guiltily. “I’m sorry. I’m swamped with work.”

Olalla’s smile was wry and twisted. “Of course.”

She flipped her long, brown hair over her shoulder, shook her head a little and suddenly, she regained her composure. “I thought your boss was away on a business trip,” she continued, her tone more pleasant now.

“He is, but he’s still sending some emails,” Fernando said. He eyed his phone again as it lit up. His fingers twitched instinctively and he itched to check the new messages. But he sat on his hands and smiled politely back at Olalla.

They’ve been dating for about a month now – if you could call it dating. They met up for dinner at most once a week when Fernando wasn’t working overtime. Olalla was a nice girl, and Fernando got along well enough with her. They could have gotten together, for sure, but now it looked like Olalla was running out of patience. She didn’t like having to play second fiddle to Andre.

They managed to get through the main course without another hitch. Fernando complimented her dress, asked about her day and invited her to the movies the next week. As soon as Olalla opened her dessert menu, though, Fernando discreetly took his phone from the table and put it on his lap. He opened the messages.

_Andre Villas-Boas: Strata will not bid for the automation project, FYI.  
Andre Villas-Boas: Also, the food here is even more terrible than English food.  
Andre Villas-Boas: You taste one sausage, you’ve tasted them all._

Fernando pretended to cough into his table napkin to stifle his chuckle.

_Fernando Torres: Stop acting like a grump and just enjoy Germany._

His boss immediately replied.

_Andre Villas-Boas: There’s nothing to do here.  
Andre Villas-Boas: I should have brought you with me._

Fernando’s stomach gave an unexpected lurch. He covered his phone with the table napkin so he could physically ignore the message. Olalla called over the waiter and asked for a cheesecake. Fernando ordered the same since he forgot to open his menu.

He checked his phone again. He typed out a message as fast as he could, not even bothering to be discreet about it. He didn’t want Andre to think he had stopped replying. 

_Fernando Torres: But I like the fact that I can actually leave by 5 PM when you’re not around.  
Andre Villas-Boas: Hah. Enjoy it while you can.  
Fernando Torres: I’m kidding! Come back, I am purposeless without you._

Olalla coughed loudly to get Fernando’s attention. He looked up sheepishly. “Work,” he tried to explain.

“Your boss is lucky. It usually takes you hours to reply to me.”

Fernando bristled at the comment. He wanted to snap, “Well, you don’t sign my paycheques.” This was why he didn’t go on dates. No one understood that work was the most important thing in his life right now.

Olalla sullenly picked at her nails. Fernando finished his dessert as fast as he could so he could ask for the bill.

*

It was a lazy Saturday, or at least as lazy as a Saturday could be if you were spending it in the office. Andre was reclined on the couch, reading through their yearend report. Fernando was seated cross-legged on the floor, working on a spreadsheet.

“I’m sorry you’re spending your weekend here with me,” Andre said.

Fernando shrugged. “It’s fine. I missed you when you were in Germany last week.”

They continued working in silence, and Fernando briefly wondered whether their conversation was appropriate for colleagues.

Fernando leaned back against the foot of the couch and propped his laptop against his knees. He was busy typing when Andre shifted above him. He felt the brush of his arm against his nape, heard a mumbled “sorry.”

Fernando tensed and dared not move. He could vaguely sense Andre’s presence just inches away from him, and it made goosebumps break out on his skin. He tried to get back to work, but he was fast becoming distracted. He could hear every rustle Andre made, every breath he took, every frustrated word he grumbled as he read the report.

When Andre suddenly tapped his shoulder, Fernando jumped out of his skin.

“What do you want for lunch?”

Fernando took a second too long to respond. “Anything,” he babbled two, three times.

“Come on, you choose. I always choose.”

Fernando turned his head, and his boss was angled in such a way that his body was just so close. Fernando gulped and tried to sound casual, “If you make me choose, we’re going to end up with McDonald’s.”

“You can do better than that.”

Fernando rattled off a list of restaurants. After the third or fourth suggestion, he was sure he wasn’t making any more sense since his mind began drifting – Andre’s eyes were such a clear shade of green; he looked so much better with his hair cropped short; and wow, Andre looked good out of his office clothes.

His eyes followed the soft lines of Andre’s polo shirt and how it fell over his chest. He was sure the older man would catch him looking.

“Fernando? Fernando?”

The haze cleared in Fernando’s brain and he nodded at Andre dumbly.

“I said, how do you feel about L’Anima?”

L’Anima was an expensive, five-star Italian restaurant in the heart of London, a very far cry from the McDonald’s Fernando was craving.

“I thought we were just ordering in.”

Andre’s nose crinkled. “I think we deserve a good meal after everything we accomplished this morning.” He stood up and stretched, then pulled Fernando to his feet. “Let’s go. My treat.”

When they arrived at the restaurant, the maître d’ led them to the elevated, corner table – the best seats in the house. Fernando raised an eyebrow, and Andre shrugged nonchalantly. “I know the owner.”

“Of course you do,” he replied wryly.

Once they were seated and the head waiter presented a bottle of wine, Fernando snickered. “I make reservations here a week in advance and I never get a table as good as this.”

“You should have told me. You were here recently?”

Fernando hesitated for a moment. This was not the kind of information typically shared with a boss. “I was on a date.”

Andre’s face changed. His tone was teasing, but it was also… off, somehow. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. It won’t work out though.”

“How come?”

Fernando smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have time for it.”

Andre was just as embarrassed. He raised his hand, “Guilty.” He was a bachelor too -- one of the most sought-after bachelors in their circles, yes, but a bachelor, still, in his 30s.

“Just to be clear, this kind of work schedule isn’t required to succeed in this job,” his boss explained. “I know people – great people – in this industry who are very strict about their work-life balance. Rafael Benitez, for example, schedules no meetings after 5 PM, and he’s the president of the biggest bank in the country. I’m just a workaholic, and you’re just unlucky you signed up for me.”

Andre leaned in and touched Fernando’s arm lightly. “Listen, I appreciate that you come in to the office on weekends whenever I do, but you don’t need to. If you want to cut back on your hours, it’s perfectly understandable.”

Fernando panicked. “No, no, no,” he hurriedly assured. “Nothing like that. I have no problems with you or this job or our schedule.”

Andre was sceptical, but he nodded. He sipped his wine. “We’re not good for each other, you know that? We should really start seeing other people.”

They laughed, and Fernando wondered again how they arrived at this point – working on Saturdays alone in the office, sharing expensive lunches, throwing double-entendres at each other.

“So, why _aren’t_ you seeing anyone?” Fernando asked.

Andre rubbed at the stubble covering his jaw. “Ah, well,” he began, and it was one of the few times that he didn’t speak with confidence and purpose. “As you said, we don’t have time for these things.”

“Mm-hmmm.” Fernando wasn’t convinced. Clearly, there was something more.

Andre rolled his wineglass between his fingers. “Besides, very few people interest me.”

“Andre!”

His boss laughed sheepishly at what he had just admitted. He explained, “I can read people well. Too well. In this job, you always have to be ahead of the curve.”

“So, you figure them out very easily.”

“And then the mystery is gone. The challenge is gone. I want to be intrigued.”

The waiter returned to refill their wineglasses and offer a bread basket.

“Do I intrigue you?” 

If the question surprised Andre, he didn’t show it. He calmly broke off a piece of bread, popped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Yes.”

“Oh?” Fernando took a bread stick and dipped it in olive oil.

“To be honest, I thought you’d only last two or three months in this job. Half a year, maybe, since you were smarter than others.”

“Half a year… And then?”

“And then, you proved me wrong.” Andre said, “I’m rarely wrong.”

Fernando didn’t let himself smile, keeping the same placid expression that Andre had. He merely nodded as if they were talking in a meeting.

The appetizers arrived soon after, then the main course, followed by the dessert sampler. The conversation continued in its unnerving normality throughout their long lunch.

The cracks only started to show when they were back in their office building.

They were making their way up the escalator, and Fernando felt Andre put a hand on the small of his back. He dismissed it, since his boss was probably just ushering him forward. It could have been a meaningless gesture. But the touch lingered heavily all the way until they were in the lobby, and Fernando had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom because he was feeling feverish all of a sudden.

*

If Andre was the first one to place his bet, Fernando, for his part, called it.

They entered their office, and instead of taking his usual spot on the floor, Fernando joined Andre on the couch. It wasn’t a very big couch, and with Andre lounging and Fernando spread out beside him, there was very little distance between them that was too easy to cross for someone with questionable intentions.

Andre knew that something was up. In all the Saturdays that they worked overtime, Fernando never sat with him on the couch. But, he didn’t point that out. He just kept a stupid, smug, little smile on his face the entire time.

Fernando could never initiate anything, though. After all, Andre was still his boss. There was an element of power play he had to contend with. Besides, he didn’t want to get caught in a compromising position in case he was just misreading Andre’s actions.

But just because Fernando couldn’t initiate anything didn’t mean he couldn’t respond. Or encourage.

After a quiet hour of work, Fernando put his laptop on the coffeetable and stretched, laying himself out wider on the couch. His legs grazed against Andre’s. His boss looked up from his report, a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes?” Andre asked.

“Is it time for a break yet? Our lunch is making me lazy,” Fernando said with a sleepy, satisfied grin.

Andre chuckled and patted Fernando’s knee. “Maybe one more hour, Fernando.” He returned to his report, but he kept his hand where it was.

Fernando curled up into a tighter ball, bringing his leg even closer to Andre. The move makes – no, _lets_ – Andre drift his hand further up Fernando’s leg.

“You work too hard,” Fernando murmured. He didn’t mean it to sound that soft and throaty, but he did say he was feeling sluggish.

Andre looked up again, and his expression was darker and more serious now. “And you…” he began.

“And I?” Fernando challenged.

Andre shook his head and reached out to brush Fernando’s bangs away from his face. “You should get your hair cut.” He ran his fingers through Fernando’s thick, blonde hair, stroking all the way down to his neck, playing with his collar.

Fernando struggled not to lean into the touch. He kept still, very still, but all he wanted was for Andre to just do something. They were alone. He would let him. God, he would let him. Just the idea made him squirm in his place, and Andre’s eyes flicked down to gaze at his body.

But somewhere along the way, Andre lost his nerve.

“You know, a break actually sounds good,” he said, jumping to his feet. He started pacing the room, anxious like a caged animal. He snapped his fingers, “Ah, I think the FA Cup is on.” He looked around for the remote, but it was on the table next to Fernando. He hesitated.

Fernando pursed his lips. He tossed the remote to his boss who caught it expertly.

“Actually, I’m not really in the mood to watch Chelsea,” Fernando said. He gathered his files and closed his laptop. “Maybe I’ll just go home early today.”

“Wait, why?” Andre asked, although the answer was clear – he was still standing by the TV on the far end of the office.

Fernando stalked to his desk, keeping his head down as he crossed the room so Andre wouldn’t see his reddening face. He felt so humiliated. He shoved his folders into his bag, ignoring the way his files crumpled messily at the edges.

“Fernando,” Andre called out, but he ignored him and slipped on his jacket. “Fernando,” Andre repeated, and his tone was stern now.

Fernando gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He turned around to face his boss at the same time that Andre closed in on him, and they collided. Andre instinctively reached out to steady Fernando, and his proximity obliterated whatever composure Fernando drummed up for this confrontation.

The air was charged between them, and Fernando tried to keep his breathing even. Andre had the same, intense look in his eyes again. He didn’t let go of Fernando, and this time, Fernando really thought Andre would kiss him.

A knock came at the door and they both jumped a foot apart. In the blink of an eye, Andre was at his desk, smoothing down his hair and his shirt. Fernando remembered that he was the executive assistant and hurried to answer the door.

It turned out that it was just Johnny, the office janitor. (Andre and Fernando heaved an audible sigh of relief.) He wanted to know what time they were leaving because he needed to vacuum the carpets afterwards.

Fernando cleared his throat. “Actually, I was just leaving.” He turned to Andre, but he kept his gaze on the bookshelf behind him. “I emailed most of my assignments already, but if I have additional notes, I’ll send them over tonight.”

Before Andre could protest, Fernando rushed out the door. 

*

Sunday was supposed to be Fernando’s one day of rest in a six-day workweek. He wasn’t getting any rest this time, though, with too many things on his mind.

The primary thought being, he had just attempted to seduce his boss.

A close second was: he had failed at it.

And now he had to go to work tomorrow, look Andre in the eye, serve him his coffee and attend meetings alongside him.

He briefly entertained the idea of calling Andre to iron things out. Or, meeting him so they could talk face to face. But then he imagined standing at Andre’s doorstep on a Sunday morning, unannounced and uninvited, and explaining himself – yes, he had wanted to kiss him, but he was wrong, and he was sorry; it would never happen again; everything could be back to the way that it was – he couldn’t do it.

No. Just, no.

*

They didn’t talk to each other the entire day on Monday. Their office was eerily silent, and all that could be heard was the clacking of keys on the keyboard. Helga, their secretary, even checked in on them because she didn’t know why “something just felt odd.”

Odd. That was the right term for it.

Andre wasn’t frigid or spiteful. He was just… treating Fernando as his executive assistant. Just as his executive assistant. Like they hadn’t worked together for more than a year. Like they didn’t spend countless hours together. Like they never became friends.

Fernando opened another email from Andre – since they weren’t talking, everything Andre had to tell Fernando, he said through email – and it was terse and cold, just like his messages to everyone else in this company.

He wondered if this was how they were going to be from now on: polite, perfunctory, proper. They had such a great working relationship, and he couldn’t believe they lost it just like that.

Fernando leaned back on his chair and gazed at Andre. His boss was hard at work, bent over his laptop, lips pursed in a straight line as he read. Fernando smiled. He wanted to smooth back Andre’s hair, massage his hunched shoulders and remind him to take it easy.

 _No._ He mentally scolded himself. _Here you go again._

The afternoon sunlight streamed generously into the room. Andre’s forehead was furrowed deeply and his eyes were squinted as the sun shone at him. Fernando couldn’t believe he even noticed. He dutifully stood up to draw the shades.

Andre looked up at the movement. It was the first time today that Fernando crossed over to his side of the office. Fernando could feel Andre watching him, but he kept his gaze focused on the window as he fixed the blinds.

When he turned around, Andre had gone back to work. He didn’t even say thank you.

*

Fernando has had many – too many – bad days in this job, but this was one of the worst in recent memory. He slumped against the cool walls of the lift, relieved to finally be heading home.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, someone called out, “Down!” Grudgingly, Fernando held the lift to let the stranger catch up. The elevators in CFC One were notoriously slow, and if you missed one, it took a good 15 minutes before the next one arrived.

The footsteps drew nearer, and it turned out to be Andre, balancing a stack of folders on one arm, and his hefty laptop bag on another.

They both froze when they saw each other.

Andre dithered, unsure of whether he should enter or not. The elevator bell beeped, warning that its doors would automatically close now.

Fernando dropped his gaze and stepped back, a subtle invitation for Andre to join him, and a blatant assurance that nothing untoward would happen.

Andre finally entered, and they stood as far apart as the elevator could allow.

Fernando stared at his scuffed leather shoes and silently chanted the apology he had practiced in his head. I’m sorry, I was wrong, I misunderstood. We can pretend it never happened. Everything will be back to the way it was.

He took a deep breath and turned to Andre. Andre was already looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze took Fernando aback.

“I…” The words died out.

And then Andre leaned in to give him the most fleeting of kisses. His lips barely fluttered on Fernando’s. Fernando didn’t even have time to close his eyes. The next moment, it was gone.

 _Ding._ The elevator reached the basement parking, and they both stepped out. No word was shared between them. The soles of their shoes resonated loudly against the pavement, in perfect unison.

Fernando was bursting with questions and emotions, but Andre was serene. He didn’t want to seem wanting. He struggled to keep it all in, at least until he was in the solitude of his car. Unfortunately, his assigned parking space was right next to Andre’s, so he had to endure another tense, quiet five minutes alongside his boss.

When they got to their cars, Andre touched Fernando’s shoulder lightly.

“Fernando” – his knees buckled at the sound of his name – “I have a couple of reports that you can take home so you can prepare for our regional conference next week.”

Fernando could just nod because suddenly they were back to ‘professional working relationship’ from ‘unresolved sexual tension.’ How was he supposed to keep track?

Andre unlocked his car and they both slipped into the backseat where he kept stacks and stacks of old files – he was a ridiculous packrat.

Fernando loved the smell of Andre’s car. It was like days-old aftershave. His eyes took several seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when he turned to the side, Andre was there. Fernando gave a startled, shaky gasp, and his face immediately reddened for sounding so unattractive.

Andre gave a soft, soft chuckle before he leaned in for another kiss. Fernando’s eyes fluttered closed. He was aware of only two things: the tight, heated grip of Andre’s hand on his neck, and the insistent pressure of Andre’s lips on his. If the first kiss was light, delicate, innocent, this one was deep, searing and unmistakable.

Fernando slid easily on the leather upholstery of the seats as he moved closer to Andre. He clutched at the lapel of Andre’s coat because he needed to anchor himself on something, anything, to help him keep his wits about him. Andre blindly pushed away a stack of folders to make more room for Fernando.

The kiss must have lasted barely minutes, but it all felt drawn out to Fernando. The slick, wet sensation of Andre’s lips, the graze of his teeth. When Andre slipped a hot tongue into Fernando’s mouth, the younger man moaned weakly. Andre’s grip instinctively tightened at the sounds Fernando was making, and he had to swallow the groan building at the back of his throat.

They only pulled apart when they heard another car pass, its headlights nearly illuminating them. They moved to opposite ends of the car once more, just to put a safe, appropriate distance between them.

“Oh no,” Fernando broke. Andre’s reports lay folded and crumpled around them. Another stack of files had fallen, scattered on the floor.

Andre laughed. “It’s no problem” he said, still a little breathless. He bent down to retrieve the papers while Fernando smoothed out the other reports, arranging them in neat piles.

When everything was fixed, Fernando bade goodbye. He had barely left, though, when Andre clambered out after him.

“Wait, Fernando!”

The assistant turned around.

Andre smiled goofily. “You know, I meant it when I said I need you to take home some materials for the conference.”

Fernando’s eyes widened, and then he burst out laughing. “Of course. Sorry about that.”

He went back, and Andre handed over a thick binder spared from the tumble they took into the backseat.

“Thanks,” Fernando said, a blush still staining his cheeks.

Andre looked around – the parking lot was almost empty but they were still out in the open. He settled with giving Fernando’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good night. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

“Text me when you get home.”

Fernando turned redder. “I will.”


	3. I know you've sexualised me like a young thing would

The kiss couldn’t have been worse-timed because the day after, Roman announced that he would visit the CFC headquarters this week instead of next, throwing their entire office into disarray. Just like that, Andre and Fernando lost a week in preparations. All their reports, presentations, reservations – everything was behind schedule.

Despite the 14-hour work days, Fernando and Andre didn’t have any time to sit down and _talk_. Their only conversations revolved around Roman and the company’s dismal first quarter performance; these were held over rushed emails, misspelled text messages and curt question-and-answer exchanges barked from opposite ends of the room.

In a way, it was a brief respite from the inevitable post-kiss awkwardness. Fernando wasn’t really looking forward to their conversation about it.

Unfortunately, just because they weren’t talking about it didn’t mean that Fernando wasn’t thinking about it. He wasted a good hour or so every night, tossing and turning in bed, agonising over that kiss. Sleep was already so hard to come by as it was.

The worst part is reliving the kiss in that moment between sleep and wakefulness. He would be awake enough so that he could see everything clearly, but he would be asleep enough so he couldn’t control where his mind wandered. And his mind wandered far – he’s sure Andre didn’t nibble at his ear or lick at his neck or lay him down on his back (he could imagine that the leather upholstery of the backseat would be smooth against his skin). But the fantasies bombarded him night after night, and all he could do was thrust his hand inside his boxers, groggily attempting to relieve the heat building between his legs.

So, Fernando looked like shit every morning. Andre arrived in the office with bags around his eyes too, but Fernando dismissed the possibility that he could be losing sleep over the kiss as well. It was probably just the stress of work.

*

By the end of the week, as Roman concluded his quarterly review and work wound down, Fernando decided he needed to unload. All this time, he’d been keeping everything to himself.

On his first free night, Fernando invited his friend, Juan Mata, out to drinks. This invitation was met with surprise, if not suspicion. Fernando couldn’t blame Juan. They went to university together, and they both worked in CFC, but they were never very close.

But – and this was arrived at through a long, painstaking decision-making process – Juan was the only person Fernando could confide in. He worked in the same office, so he would have a better grasp of what Fernando should or shouldn’t do; and all their other friends worked in rival companies, so their own self-interests wouldn’t let them keep a secret like this one.

“What’s up?” Juan asked, ending the first hour of the night that Fernando spent stalling, asking his friend about his job, his department, his family.

Fernando drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “Well.” He laughed sheepishly and drank his beer. His mug was almost empty, how did that happen? He just got a refill.

Juan raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Are you resigning?”

“What? No, no, no. Of course not.”

“I just figured. AVB can’t be easy to work with.”

“No, Andre’s very easy,” Fernando coughed, “to work with.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Fernando huffed. Juan was in the finance department. What would he know? He was an _accountant_.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you because I need your advice on something.” Fernando chugged his beer again.

“Yes?” Juan prodded.

Fernando wanted to spit out the secret, say it as fast as possible, but he struggled with every word so his sentence was all drawn out.

“I may have… accidentally… made out… with… a co-worker.”

Juan crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you accidentally make out with someone?”

“I didn’t mean to! And I wasn’t planning to! But it was like the dynamic between us suddenly changed, and there was just so much tension, and the next thing I know… we’re making out in his car.”

Juan’s eyes widened, but he kept a straight face at the drop of the pronoun. He didn’t point it out. He’s seen Fernando make out with guys before, but those were at parties, and he thought those didn’t count.

“Who is he?”

Fernando turned red. “Someone from my department.”

“Do I know him?”

Fernando shrugged.

“Well, do you think it will happen again?”

Fernando sighed and shrugged again.

“You should be fine as long as you keep it discreet,” Juan said. “I don’t get what the problem is.”

Fernando buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Juan, it’s Andre.”

There was a full minute where Juan’s expression changed from ignorance to denial, disbelief to horror, and then, “Fuck, Fernando, what are you talking about? You’re joking, right?”

Fernando shook his head.

“You can’t do that!” Juan screeched.

“It was an accident, I told you!”

“And, AVB, he kissed you back?”

Just hearing Andre called “AVB” – the way most people in CFC called him – made Fernando sick. “Of course he kissed back. I said I made out with him, I didn’t force myself on him.”

Juan looked spooked. “But, it won’t happen again, right?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“What? Fernando, it can’t happen again!” Juan exclaimed. “What happens if you get caught? They’re not gonna fire AVB. He’s the head of the company. They’re gonna fire you!”

Fernando’s jaw dropped. He knew this, he knew all of this. He knew office relationships were strictly forbidden, much less between executives and their assistants. It just felt different hearing it from another person.

“Or, what happens if this all ends badly? All your reference letters are going to come from AVB. He could ruin you.”

Andre wouldn’t do that, Fernando told himself. But he very well could.

“You’re right,” he admitted weakly.

“Of course I’m right, there’s no questioning it!” Juan still couldn’t stop raising his voice.

Fernando nodded obediently. He reached for his beer even though it was making him want to throw up. He drank it until only the foam was left. “By the way, you need to keep this between us. You cannot tell a soul.”

Juan smiled shakily, still a bit overwhelmed with their confrontation, “I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway if I did tell them.”

*

_Fernando,_

Meeting, 6 PM, Room 1001.

Andre

Fernando reread the Post-It note stuck to his laptop screen. Meeting? There was no meeting scheduled in his planner. It was already 6:10 PM. Andre was going to kill him for being late, worse for being unprepared.

He grabbed a notebook and pen then rushed to the meeting room. It did not escape him that people were already filing out of the office and lining up for the lifts, while he still had work.

Andre was already waiting patiently in the room when Fernando arrived. His boss was seated at the head of the table. Oddly, he was alone.

Fernando stopped. His palms started to sweat. He closed the door behind him, but he didn’t sit down. “This is the talk, isn’t it?”

Andre smiled timidly. “Best to get it over and done with.”

Nervously, Fernando took a seat three chairs away from his boss.

“I apologise for not being able to talk to you sooner. With Roman’s arrival, this is the soonest I could schedule this discussion.”

Andre had his hands clasped together on the desk; he sat straight in his chair; and his tone was business-like. Fernando frowned – he couldn’t believe Andre was conducting this like an actual meeting. Like this was an item in his agenda that he just had to tick off.

Andre sensed his assistant’s discomfort. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I know this is a delicate issue. Honestly, I don’t know how to approach this any more than you do.”

Fernando looked down at his notebook, ashamed. What did he want? A hug and a bouquet of flowers?

Andre sighed and moved a seat closer to Fernando. He glanced up at the ceiling as he admitted, “Look, it’s just that… when I don’t know how to act, I act like a CEO. It’s the only thing I know how to be.”

The rare moment of vulnerability made Fernando’s heart ache for Andre.

He remembered, last year, Andre had to terminate 10 executives as the company restructured. Most of them were his closest friends, but Andre had to make the decision nevertheless. He met with each and every one of them to explain the news in person. And all that time, he was impeccably professional and absolutely no-nonsense about it, even though Fernando knew he was hurting inside.

Fernando smiled encouragingly at the older man. “Relax. This meeting is just between the two of us.”

Andre smiled in return. He let out a shaky breath. “I just wanted to say sorry. The kiss was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I’m as much to blame.”

“But I’m the boss. I should have known better.”

“And I’m the junior. I shouldn’t even have tried.”

They shared an embarrassed laugh, and it seemed like the concession.

As everything sank in, Fernando felt relieved. Ever since his talk with Juan, his irrepressible desire quickly morphed into irrational paranoia. What if they got caught? Worse, what if Andre turned the tables and reported him? What if he was fired, and what if this was put on his record? He would forever be stigmatised, and people would assume that the only reason he did well in this job was because he was giving sexual favours to his boss. That kiss, that one kiss would be the end of him.

It felt odd to crave something so badly and regret it just as much.

Andre touched Fernando’s arm to get his attention. A current of electricity ran between them, and Fernando jumped. His skin tingled.

“Are you okay? You seem troubled.”

Fernando shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in.” He smirked at Andre, “I suppose this is also the part where you tell me that what happened between us can’t happen again.”

Andre grinned back – his trademark grin that stretched from ear to ear and made his eyes disappear, “Yes. I’m glad you understand.”

“Of course. There’s too much at risk. For both of us.”

Andre nodded with finality, and they both stood up. Fernando expected Andre to shake his hand, the way he always did with other clients after a meeting. But Andre leaned in and wrapped Fernando in a quick, tight embrace.

It takes Fernando by surprise and suddenly, he is bombarded with all these sensations: the sight of Andre’s chequered shirt up close, the sound of Andre’s deep breathing, the scent of aftershave and the feel of the arm around his waist.

Andre pulled away. “It was good while it lasted.”

“Yes, it was,” Fernando said.

*

They had such a mature and amiable break-up that Fernando genuinely expected them to go their own ways. He was ready, and he knew Andre was too. But it was a strange feeling, going to work every day and knowing your boss or your assistant was attracted to you. That knowledge was just there, out in the open, and it hounded them all the time.

Andre stepped out of the bathroom cubicle, self-consciously tugging at the lapels of his tuxedo. “Is this alright?” He asked Fernando. “It completely slipped my mind that the Marketing Excellence Awards Night was this week. I had to buy a suit at the last minute, and this was the only thing they had in my size.”

Fernando, leaning against the sink, smiled. “It’s Dolce & Gabbana. Even if you got the suit in their bargain bin, it would still be fine.”

Andre laughed. He took out the matching black bowtie from its plastic bag. “You’re only saying that because I’m your boss.”

“True,” Fernando admitted, a twinkle in his eye. He pushed off from the sink and approached his boss. “Here,” he offered, lifting the collar around Andre’s shirt so he could put on his bowtie.

It was suddenly so quiet in the bathroom, and Fernando was sure Andre was also holding in his breath. Andre worked the bowtie hastily, and from that close, Fernando could see the way his hands shook.

“Wait,” Fernando whispered, reaching out to straighten the ribbon. He smiled, patting Andre on the chest, “There. All ready.”

Andre glanced at himself in the mirror, still fidgeting nervously. “Are you sure?” He pulled at his sleeves, buttoned and unbuttoned his coat.

Fernando decided against “You look gorgeous” and instead settled for the safer “You look great.”

Andre nodded at Fernando through the mirror. “So do you.”

While Andre preferred a classic look, his assistant was young and modern. Tonight, he was in a dark blue slim-cut suit, a black shirt, a metallic blue tie and a patterned pocket square. The colours set off his pale skin nicely.

“You’ll have all eyes on you tonight.”

 _Including yours?_ Fernando wanted to ask, but he couldn’t go down that road anymore. They were too far gone as it was. He changed the topic abruptly. “We should head down. The limousine is waiting.”

The drive to the event was long and silent. It was difficult enough to maintain self-control in a well-lit company bathroom. The dark confines of a limousine was a different challenge altogether. Just sharing a backseat with Andre was making Fernando uncomfortable because this was exactly how their kiss started.

Fernando had been trying to keep his distance from Andre since they agreed that nothing could happen between them. He had been doing a pretty damn good job too. It was easy at work – they were busy, and there were always people around. After office hours, though, Fernando slipped a little.

When they stepped out of the limousine and entered the Soho Hotel for the Awards Night, they automatically fell into their old ways. It was so easy to melt into each other.  
They walked into the ballroom. Andre one step ahead, Fernando close behind him. Andre always led the way – he was the authority figure, and the crowd parted for him – but Fernando kept at his side, always.

It was a well-rehearsed dance. Andre made the rounds and met with his colleagues. When they came across acquaintances and strangers, Fernando whispered their names and designations to Andre so he could pretend he knew them all along.

Even their conversations were performed in tandem.

When guests teased Fernando with the typical “Is Andre really the slavedriver people say he is?”, he answered smoothly, “Of course. But that’s what you get when you work for the best.” 

And when people complimented Andre on his sharp tux, he quickly turned the conversation around, “You should look at my assistant, Fernando. Now this one is the real heartbreaker.”

By the end of the night, everyone was eating out of the palm of their hands.

“Do you need a refill?” Fernando whispered when he noticed that Andre’s scotch glass was empty. They were sharing a cocktail table with some media managers, and the conversation looked like it wasn’t going to wind down anytime soon. “I can get us a fresh round at the bar.”

Andre gripped Fernando’s wrist under the table. “Don’t you dare leave me here by myself,” he whispered back. Andre flashed a debonair smile at the ladies, “Could you excuse us? Fernando and I are just heading to the bar.”

One of the ladies teased, “You two are just going to discuss work.”

“Ah, that too,” Andre winked.

When they were out of earshot, Andre said, “I hate schmoozing with the press.”

“I thought you wanted to stay with them,” Fernando replied as they walked to the bar.

Andre shook his head. “I’d rather stay with you.”

Whether that was a backhanded compliment or a genuine one, Fernando couldn’t tell, but the older man flashed him one of his rakish grins, and Fernando was swooning for him just like everyone else.

“More scotch?” Andre asked as he called the bartender.

Fernando grimaced, “Make mine a double.”

*

It was well past midnight when they left the party. Fernando and Andre waited out on the curb for the chauffeur to bring around the limousine. They stood close to each other, shoulders pressed together, as the wind picked up a chill.

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” Andre asked.

And though the question came out of nowhere, Fernando understood what he meant. “Yes, it was.” It was always refreshing to remember just how good they were together. And not just good – brilliant.

Fernando cast a sidelong glance at his boss. He looked so content and serene, which was rare for him. A smile even played faintly on his lips. Fernando suddenly felt the irrepressible urge to kiss him.

His mind automatically played the well-rehearsed spiel: _No, it’s wrong. No, you already talked about this. No, it can’t happen again. No, no, no._

But the protests weren’t as strong this time around. Maybe it was because they were out of the office and they were all dressed up and they could have been different people. It was late, and it was cold and he was buzzed.

Their only fear was that they would get caught. But the street was deserted, Fernando reasoned out. The car was tinted. It would just be the two of them.

The limousine arrived. Fernando held the door open as Andre slipped inside. Before Fernando followed, he paused to ask himself one last time: _Should I, or…_

I should.

Fernando entered the car and in one fluid move, he moved up to Andre. The leather upholstery was slippery underneath his knees, so he wrapped one hand around the headrest to support himself, and the other he placed on Andre’s chest to hold him down.

Not that Andre was going anywhere. He was braced against the door, his body open, his pupils blown.

Fernando leaned in, and just before their lips met, he heard Andre emit a small, hungry snarl. Fernando stopped for a split-second as a delicious shudder racked through him. When they finally kissed, it was more violent than he had planned. Their teeth clashed against each other’s as they both pressed closer, and their fingernails dug into soft skin.

The limousine couldn’t have been going that fast, but they were two grown men squirming on a single backseat. When the car turned left, Fernando had to grab at a seatbelt to keep steady, and when the car made a U-turn, Andre yelped loudly as they both fell against the door handle.

But, they barely stopped. The drive from the Soho Hotel to CFC One would take roughly 15 minutes. They had no time to lose.

After the frantic scramble, the two pulled away to catch their breath. Andre sat up and shrugged off his coat. Then, he pushed Fernando’s coat off his shoulders. Silently, obediently, Fernando took it off.

Andre reached for his tie. With a simple flick of the wrist, it came undone. The pressure loosened around his throat, but Fernando suddenly found it difficult to swallow. They’ve never gone this far before.

“What?” Andre asked. 

Fernando gulped and shook his head, “Nothing.” He felt Andre tug at his collar and undo the top few buttons. Then, he pushed Fernando down on the seat and straddled him. Fernando’s heart slammed loudly against his ribcage as he lay prone beneath the older man.

Andre wasn’t forcing him into this. Anxiety aside, he wanted this just as badly.

But deep inside, Fernando knew that if this were any other person, he could easily say no if he lost his nerve. Since this was his boss, though, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t even if he could. The sense of powerlessness, even though imagined, turned him on.

He’s never been dominated before, not by the girls he’s slept with, not even by the handful of guys he’s fooled around with. And here was Andre, his body a cage around him. When Andre kissed his neck, his stubble tickling his skin, Fernando couldn’t even escape if he tried. All he could do was writhe underneath the older man, choking back his moans.

Andre licked at his neck like a cat lapping up milk – lingering, tasting. Fernando quivered against him, grunting Andre’s name in frustration.

He tried to return the favour. With quivering hands, he reached for Andre’s bowtie, blindly looking for the loose end – a challenge since the other man wouldn’t stop moving. He gave up and resorted to brute strength, yanking at the ribbon, hoping it would come loose. But the bowtie wouldn’t budge, and had to Andre get away. “You’re choking me,” he rasped.

“What the fuck is this even,” Fernando whined.

Andre laughed and placed a light kiss on Fernando’s lips – they were feeling lonely ever since Andre found his neck. “Just leave it.”

Fernando frowned. Not to be undone, he tugged Andre’s shirt out of his slacks and pushed it up until it bunched around his armpits. He smiled, “Now we’re even.”

Andre’s gaze darkened. “I work my way down, you can…” his breath hitched as Fernando’s cold hands wrapped around his bare waist. “Work your way up.”

* 

On days when Fernando gets to work earlier than Andre, he likes to spend his mornings in the pantry, leisurely sipping coffee, reading the paper and listening in on the office gossip. It was one of his rare moments of peace in a work day fraught with stress.

“Anyway, what I heard is that Frank is upset – no, _livid_ – that he didn’t get the promotion this year,” Helga, their secretary, shared.

“What’s worse is that the company hired from outside to fill in the position, which means that Frank won’t be promoted anytime soon too,” Tessa, one of their consultants, chimed in.

Frank was an old-timer in CFC, a favourite, especially during the time of Jose Mourinho, the previous CEO. But since Andre reassigned him to a different position, he hasn’t done as well.

“It’s hardly arbitrary, though. His performance appraisal didn’t earn him the promotion,” Fernando said with a shrug.

Everyone tittered around him as they discussed the news. Fernando stirred his coffee thoughtfully – Andre didn’t have a shortage of enemies in CFC. But it came with the territory. The CEO has to make tough calls.

“Speaking of…” Tessa said, nodding toward the door.

Andre emerged from the elevator and strode toward the office. His suit neatly pressed and perfectly tailored, his hair tousled and messy, his stride purposeful.

Tessa sighed. “If only he weren’t so damn attractive.” Fernando snickered. He could have said the exact same thing. His heart leapt when Andre rounded the corner and passed by the pantry. He was even more good-looking up close. Power wafted off him in waves.

Andre knocked on the open pantry door. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning!” Everyone chorused.

Andre found Fernando’s gaze too easily. “Fernando,” he called out. He didn’t even need to say anything more. He just snapped his fingers and pointed to their office.

“Your boss wants you,” Helga said.

Fernando bit back a smile as he stood up. _Oh yes, he does._

*

When Fernando got to the office, Andre was already there, rearranging the folders on his desk – opening the files, flipping through the first few pages, closing them again and making new stacks. He knew him well enough by now to know he was just stalling.

Fernando cleared his throat to get his attention.

Andre looked up and smiled faintly. “Could you close the door?”

Fernando did as he was told, then perched on his desk to keep a safe distance between them. He spoke first to spare his boss the aggravation.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

A wave of relief washed over Andre’s face – he wasn’t keen on initiating this painful conversation again.

“It’s alright. I’m hardly innocent.”

Fernando bit back a smirk. Damn right, he wasn’t. They didn’t get past second base last night but there was no mistaking the hardness digging against Fernando’s thigh. He squeezed his legs together tightly at the memory. Now was not the time to be thinking of that.

“It was the scotch, wasn’t it?” Andre teased. His mood was lighter now, and he perched on his desk too, mimicking Fernando.

“No. It was the tux,” Fernando winked back.

They smiled at each other coquettishly like teenagers from opposite ends of the bar, until Andre snapped out of it.

“Anyway,” he said loudly. “Last night…”

“It never happened,” the assistant supplied.

“Good.”

*

Fernando’s phone beeped as he was on his way home. It was from Andre. He left just five minutes ago, and his boss was already messaging him.

_Andre Villas-Boas: I’m sorry about this morning._

Yes, well, it was his fault this time around.

Fernando arrived in the office with a new haircut – cropped short, dyed dark. He had a silly superstition about changing his hair with every new chapter in his life, and that chapter was the one where he would no longer get involved with Andre.

He headed straight to his first meeting of the day. It was still early, but knowing Andre, he was even earlier. True enough, through the frosted glass wall of the boardroom, he could see that Andre was already inside, chatting with Roberto di Matteo, one of the vice presidents. He knocked on the door and entered the room quietly so as not to disturb the executives.

Andre didn’t notice him at first. His back was to the door. It was Roberto that did the double-take, and he nodded at Fernando in acknowledgment. “Nice,” he mouthed.

Fernando smiled back politely then busied himself with his laptop. He was in charge of the first presentation today, and the other attendees should be here in a while.

“Fernando,” Andre called out, “Do you have a copy of…”

Andre suddenly stopped as he saw Fernando for the first time. His mouth fell open slightly. Fernando stood still, like an obedient boy letting the older man appraise him. Roberto eyed the two of them curiously.

“Do you have a copy of the FTSE Index yesterday?” Andre’s poker face returned just as quickly as it vanished.

“I can draw one up for you. Do you want copies for everyone?” Fernando answered, smoothly slipping back into professional mode too. 

“Just for me and Roberto. Thanks.”

The meeting was as dull as an early morning meeting could be. People talked slowly, questions were long and the answers were even longer. Fernando leaned back against his chair and hid a yawn behind his notebook.

Across the table, though, Andre was restless. He fidgeted endlessly in his seat, and his gaze flitted from the screen to his assistant where it would linger. Fernando could feel his stare burning against his skin the entire time. He kept his eyes on Roberto’s presentation throughout the meeting so he wouldn’t have to look back at Andre.

When the meeting ended, the other executives left, but Andre stayed behind. He remained seated at the head of the table, while Fernando packed up the equipment.

“Yes?” Fernando asked, as he dismantled the projector.

Andre folded his hands in front of him like they were still in a meeting. “So, what was the reason behind this change?”

Fernando shrugged, a lopsided smirk on his lips, “I wanted to look older, more serious.”

Andre shook his head. “You look even younger.”

Fernando zipped the projector bag shut. “Then why are you so turned on?”

Andre laughed, a deep, dark laugh. He stood and walked to the door – Fernando wished he would step out already, but instead, his boss turned the lock.

Fernando’s chest tightened. He pretended to be busy shutting down his laptop.

“Fernando,” Andre called out. He could hear him approaching, and then suddenly, his hand was on Fernando’s laptop, closing the lid.

“Someone is using this room for a 10:30 meeting.”

“That’s not for another half hour.”

Fernando’s mouth was dry from the anxiety, the excitement. He licked his lips. “People can see us from outside.”

Andre turned around and assessed the frosted glass panes. Then, he walked to the wall and flipped the switch. The lights went out.

Out of the darkness, Andre wrapped an arm around Fernando’s waist and pulled him to the side farthest from the windows and the door. Fernando struggled to find his bearings, but Andre outmanoeuvred him. He suddenly felt two hands cupping his face, and then Andre was kissing him.

It was the first time they kissed outside of a cramped backseat, and all that space was liberating. When Andre reached around to grasp at his ass, Fernando has no surface to fall back on. The only other natural reaction was to bend into his touch. Andre rubbed back against him frenziedly. He could feel every inch of his erection through the thin material of his slacks.

“Fu-uck,” Fernando moaned thickly. He was so glad the lights were out, since his hips were bucking shamelessly, needily against Andre’s.

Andre stopped kissing Fernando – they’ve had enough of kissing these days. He placed his hands on Fernando’s waist and back to keep him steady, and then he slid harder against him. His grunts punctuated Fernando’s ragged breaths.

The friction wasn’t enough, though. Andre’s hand reluctantly drifted towards Fernando’s belt buckle, and Fernando didn’t know if he wanted to stop him. It was idiotic to make out in the boardroom, much less get off. They were out in the open and out of time.

But just the idea of going back to his desk and working for eight hours with a hard-on – his balls hurt just thinking about it.

“Quickly,” he whispered against Andre’s neck. He reached for the other man’s belt buckle too.

They didn’t dare take off their clothes. Their pants were just shoved down low enough so they could take out their cocks.

If they were brazen a few minutes ago, they were frantic now. They reached for each other and just started jacking off.

Between worrying about getting caught and making a mess on the boardroom carpets, Fernando could hardly focus on the handjob he was giving Andre. But this wasn’t supposed to be fancy anyway. Fernando was just relieved Andre was finally, finally touching him.

They both came soon after – weak, staining only their hands, but enough to satiate.

Fernando collapsed on a nearby chair, taking out his handkerchief to wipe himself off.

“This never happened,” Andre said.

“For something that never happens, it keeps happening.”

Andre smirked tiredly. “Don’t give me that attitude, young man.”

Fernando laughed back. “Sorry, I’ll let you be the boss again, just give me a second to catch my breath.”

*

It continued in the same vein afterwards. Hurried, hidden trysts in the photocopying room, the elevator, even once in the car during a two-hour drive to Oxford where they attended a conference. The guilt, the apologies were already well-rehearsed.

They were getting reckless, and it was terrifying. But what was troubling Fernando even more wasn’t so much the sex. It was everything else that went along with it.

“Hey, Fernando, are you doing overtime this Saturday?” Juan asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Can I hitch with you to the office? My car’s in the shop.”

Fernando hesitated. “I’m not heading to the office. Andre and I are working at his place.”

Juan’s eyebrows rose. “Since when?”

Since a month ago. At first, it was just because Andre wasn’t feeling well one Saturday, so they agreed to bring the work to his place. They ended up cooking paella for lunch and failing, and then capping off the day with beers and DVDs. It was amazing. They’ve been doing it every Saturday since.

When Fernando couldn’t answer, Juan shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Fernando, but you better be careful.”

They were reaching their tipping point, Fernando could sense it. He didn’t know what they were tipping into and how it would go down, but it was impending.

It was nearing December, and they were swamped with even more work than usual: finalizing the yearend performance, approving bonuses, wrapping up projects and balancing budgets, even buying Christmas gifts for the office – shopping for 60 people was surprisingly time-consuming.

All the patience and energy Fernando had allotted for this year, they had all run out. They ran out weeks ago. He was at the end of the line.

“My project brief was clear. I need to launch this campaign by Monday. It’s already Friday, and you haven’t sent me any of my materials yet,” Fernando hissed down the phone. “It’s not my problem if your creatives went home already. Make them go back to the office to finish it.”

It was like Fernando was angry all the time.

Andre was no better. His style was different, though. If his assistant was loud and fiery, he was cold and exacting.

“John, do you ever read the comments I make on your reports?... Mm-hmm. Because I keep on seeing the same mistakes… Okay, so should I write down the corrections again?” Andre asked, hand on hip. Fernando smirked. He knew that spiel – the sarcasm was subtle so you never knew if it was a real question. 

“Right, I’ll send it back to you then… Please send me back the revised version as soon as you can... No, tonight.”

Just when Andre finished his call, Fernando’s phone rang again. Groaning, he dragged his feet back to his desk so he could fetch his Blackberry.

Suddenly, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Don’t take it,” Andre said.

“Excuse me?”

Andre wrapped an arm around Fernando’s waist and placed a chaste kiss on the back of his neck where his collar was rumpled. “Let’s have just a few minutes of silence.”

Fernando’s phone rang shrilly a couple more times, and then it ended. For the first time that night, no one was talking in their office.

From behind, Andre encircled his arms around Fernando’s body and pulled him close. Fernando let himself fall back against the older man. Andre sighed softly, wearily.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

Fernando rested his head against Andre’s shoulder and placed his hands over Andre’s hands clasped around his front. Andre hugged him tighter, and Fernando felt the tension in his body melt away. Andre never held him that way before. He felt so warm and solid. It was comforting.

“What do you say we call it a night? You need rest.” Fernando asked softly. “We can just meet up tomorrow at your place to work.”

He felt Andre nod behind him. “How about you sleep over at my place tonight instead? It will be easier.”

Fernando spun around in Andre’s arms. He was unsure. “Do you want me to?”

Andre shrugged one shoulder. That was as clear a yes as he could get.

Fernando looked back. The door office was closed, but people were just outside, milling around. The din filtered into their office – the scraping of chairs, the clack of keyboards, the anger in stressed phone calls.

“We said we couldn’t keep doing this.” Fernando said.

“But what if we could? We have been, for quite some time now.”

“What if we get caught?” He didn’t know when their worries shifted from “it’s wrong, it’s inappropriate,” to “it has to be kept secret.”

“We won’t,” Andre insisted.

Now was not the time to plan the logistics, but Fernando felt like he could believe him. They had separate cars, separate homes. They could arrive and leave the office separately. There was no reason to doubt them – they already spent every waking minute together.

Besides, now that they could see each other freely, maybe it would stop them from being so reckless. No more office sex.

Or, maybe just a little bit of office sex.

Fernando breathed out. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“It’s worth the risk,” Fernando said with a nervous smile.

Andre grinned. He took his assistant’s hand and kissed it. “Great. Let’s go home.”


End file.
